Basch looks asleep, golden and glistening. Balthier's shoulders ache in sympathy and remembrance.
"Now, have I proven my talents?" Vossler's hands also glisten, the oil slicking down the thick, dark hair along his forearms.
Balthier strips his shirt (only), and lies down, face-down. He can feel Basch's heat beside him. (Beyond Basch sits Fran; Balthier appreciates that she does not seek eye contact.)
Vossler settles low on Balthier's thighs, blunt fingers, blunt palms, and, unexpectedly, having asked none of Basch, questions. He is pleasingly silent and attentive to the pirate's answers.
Balthier groans as a knot loosens, relaxing into command.